Je Me Souviens
by Nevertrustaprussian
Summary: Post WWI one-shot, Canada just signed the treaty of Versailles and is reflecting on the war with Netherlands. WARNING: Human names used. Much better than the summary!  I hope


This is just a little post- WWI Canada/netherlands scene I came up with a few days ago.

Pairing : Netherlands/Canada (well, duh..)

Warnings : Human names used! (Canada= Matthew, Netherlands= Lars)

Disclaimer : I don't own hetalia! …if i did, there would be a lot more romance.

Je Me Souviens…

Matthew hears the footsteps as he watches the new flowers swaying in front of him, but he does not turn or utter a greeting; he wants to appreciate the silence. Lars is about to wraps his arms around his waist. The other doesn't start, but wordlessly lays on of his hands lightly on top of Lars' joined ones and almost subconsciously leans back against the older man's chest. Matthew never turns around, but continues to watch the flowers- poppies- in the field. The contrast amazes him, something so beautiful growing out of death ridden soil. He can still easily see the graves, not nearly hidden by the growth of grass and young flowers. So many graves, they stretch as far as he can see, and it astounds him even though he knows that there are many other fields of graves like this one, and larger. Matthew hates war, hates the death and the loss, the stupid reasoning behind them, and that most soldiers didn't even know what they were fighting for in the first place. Most of all, he hates the happiness that nations, including himself to an extent, feel after beating one of their equals, realizing that they have won. He still sees Germany, completely helpless and heartbroken in Paris during the signing of the treaty of Versailles, watching Italy while their bosses signed the paper: Italy staring at his shoes to avert his eyes from his former ally. Before he came to Paris to sign the treaty, Matthew couldn't have been happier, he had his freedom, he was hardly a colony anymore, and finally his family was proud of him, England especially, more proud than they had ever been of Alfred, and according to them, he was a very large part of the reason they had won the war: the first war that he had fought (even partially) as his own nation. As soon as he had walked in that room and saw the looks on the faces of the nations there, it had turned from one of the best moments of his life into the worst. Matthew sighs and shifts his weight, feeling Lars brush his lips against his neck softly.

"Penny for your thoughts." Lars whispers beside his ear, tearing Matthew further from his thoughts. The other nation doesn't reply for a few moments, distracted by the scene before him once more.

"Huh?" The small question seems like the only thing that his mouth can form, his tongue not quite used to speaking lately.

"Hmm, apparently not as common expression as I thought," Lars explains, still talking quietly, "Well, what's on your mind?"

Matthew didn't reply right away, but he didn't need to. Lars already knew what was going through his head, and almost regretted asking.

"E-everything." Matthew answers, making Lars have to strain to hear him even though he was only about an inch away. "The war, all these deaths, these treaties..." _Germany, Italy, my family… _Matthew adds to himself.

"Well, we won, _liefje_. It's all over," Lars says after placing a light kiss on Matthew's temple, "So nothing to worry about now." Matthew has half a mind to argue, to say that it really _isn't _all over now; that there are people for whom the war will never be over for as long as they live: people like women who lost their husbands, children who lost their fathers, but he doesn't; he doesn't have the energy, or the will to fight anymore.

"Yes, I suppose," He says instead, "But I just can't stop thinking about them, you know? I don't think I ever will." The last phrase was uttered as such low volume that Lars only understood because he had expected those words. Lars doesn't need clarification as to who 'they' are, he already knows; perhaps better than Matthew himself. 'They' are the people that died for their countries in these foolish wars, the people that left everything their homes knowing they probably would never come back.

"I know." Lars sighs against Matthew's hair, "I- I would say that it gets better after a while, but it doesn't, it really doesn't. You just learn to deal with it, you know?"

Having nothing to say to that, Matthew remains silent, simply staring at nothing, and enjoying the comfortable silence that hangs over them. After almost five years of war when the noise never really stopped, the peaceful quiet was precious.

"Hey, Matt," But he can think of something else that was even more precious. "I know you're not really in the mood, but I brought you something."

Matthew, intrigued despite himself, unwraps Lars' arms from around his waist and slowly turns around to face the Dutchman, one eyebrow quirked slightly. Lars resists the smile tugging at his lips when he sees the Canadian's confused expression; he really never did catch on to a tradition, did he?

"Alright, judging by the circumstances, I won't make you guess this time, but I'm surprised you don't already know what it is." Lars says, reaching into his coat pocket. Matthew immediately realizes what it is, but before he can comment, he is presented with a surprisingly healthy looking pink tulip. Suddenly, just by the sight of that little flower, Matthew feels comforted. Perhaps it's the familiarity of it, and the fact that, despite this horrible, long war, Lars still manages to keep up a trend. Every time Matthew visits him, Lars finds a different colour tulip. Sometimes it's just a tiny shade off from the last, but always different, and always with a different meaning. Matthew doesn't know if the meanings are universal, or if the Dutchman just makes them up on the spot, but every single time they make him smile. Today, apparently, is no exception, and already the Canadian can feel a grin forming on his lips.

"Pink, Lars." He says, crossing his arms, "Seriously, what am I? A girl?" Seeing Matthew smile, Lars lets himself smile as well, thankful that the other is happier.

"Oh shut it." He says before clearing his throat, "Pink means caring. Now, if I remember correctly, the definition for said word is 'displaying kindness and concern for others'. And that is exactly what you did for my sister and I during these last years, and I can never fully repay you for that, so please take this as a thank you, or well, the beginning of one." Lars' smile disappears somewhere in his explanation, his deep green eyes displaying the extent of his gratitude and sincerity. "And, of course, I care about you, _liefje_."

"I-It was no problem, really." Matthew replies quietly, feeling his cheeks start to flush as he accepts the perfect flower. "I'm sure anyone would've done the same-." Matthew cuts himself off when he notices Lars shaking his head.

"No, I can assure you that most people wouldn't do that." Lars said, ignoring Matthew's sigh, "In a war that wasn't even theirs to fight in the first place? No, not everyone would do that. I doubt I would have." Lars sighs, his gaze changing to look somewhere above Matthew's head for a moment, before coming back to look him in the eye. "That is what makes you so special, Matt." Lars' smile is back as he leans down to place a firm kiss on the side of Matthew's mouth, only drawing back enough to murmur: "Please, _please_ never, ever change."

Matthew's only answer is wrapping his arms, tulip still in his hand, around the taller man's neck and bringing their lips together in a heated, passionate kiss that left both smiling and out of breath, Matthew with his head leaning against Lars' chest, once again completely and tightly surrounded in a pair of long arms, savoring his unique scent of Dutch air, and soil, and… well, weed.

Too soon, always too soon, Matthew remembered where he was actually supposed to be at that moment and groaned audibly, causing Lars' to smirk.

"I' waf 'oo go." He says, voice muffled by the fabric of Lars' jacket. Chuckling, the Dutchman loosens his hold and looks at Matthew, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

"I have to go." Matthew says, sighing, "Alfred and I were going to go home today and, well, I think I'm already late." Looking back up at Lars, he is surprised to find a grin in place on the man's mouth.

"Well, at least let me walk you to your…" Lars looks around, as if expecting to find a vehicle of some sort. Instead, after a few seconds of looking in the same direction, he looks back at Matthew, eyes wide, "… plane?"

"Uh… yeah, see, I really wanted to come here and that was kind of my only last minute choice of transport between Paris and Flanders." Matthew chuckles, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Matthew." Lars says, and then pauses, as if trying to put an emphasis on his next words, "Are you intending to fly home? Across the Atlantic? In _that_?" He made a loose gesture towards the small fighter plane awaiting a pilot about 200 meters away.

"Me and Alfred, yeah," Matthew says, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world; however, seeing Lars' expression, he hastily adds: "Yes, I know it seems insane, but these planes are actually very durable!" Lars' expression is unreadable, but he only sighs and, looping an arm around Matthew's shoulders, leads them both towards the plane.

Lars waits for Matthew to climb inside the so-called 'very durable' (Lars still has his doubts) plane before handing him his helmet.

"_Tot ziens, liefje, je t'adores toujours_." Lars says, stepping back from the plane as Matthew takes the steering yoke in hand. The Canadian chuckles at Lars' bad French, but takes his hand and the tulip that is still clutched within it to wave nonetheless, knowing that his Dutch is not much better.

"_Ik zal altijd van je houden_!" Matthew says with a smile, almost yelling over the roar of the propeller, before letting the plane race along its makeshift runway and return to its element.

Lars watches, waiting until the plane is no longer visible before turning to go back home, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walks towards Flanders, gazing at the once ordinary fields that now breathed Matthew's name with every breeze that swept through them and rustled the vibrant poppies.

_Liefje= love (in dutch)_

_Tot ziens, liefje= farewell, love (in dutch)_

_Ik zal altijd van je houden= I will love you always (dutch)_

_je t'adores toujours= I will love you always (french)_

Historical notes:

Canada played a very large role in WWI and, afterwards/during the end of the war, basically gained independence from Britain. During the war, Canada (along with the other allies) provided Belgium with a lot of protection from German attacks

Netherland's national flower is the tulip and YES I know that Netherlands didn't start giving Canada tulips every year until after WWII, but… I'm just going to ignore that for the sake of the fluff!

So I think that's it! Reviews are very, very much appreciated! Thank you! Have a nice day


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